


Splitting the Bill

by AuntyA



Category: Bleach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24208426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntyA/pseuds/AuntyA
Summary: Gin's restaurant troubles continue.A more restrained friend of mine is reading some of my work so I've moved the gory bits out of the cooking competition in case they are squeamish.Not new work.
Kudos: 1





	1. Paying the tab

Gin was holding his head again. His long bangs had been carelessly swept aside by his pale fingers. Renji was pretty sure Gin didn’t know his battered face was on display for the whole room. He signed and headed over there to tell him.

“Hey,” Renji called out across the space. Gin was touching his forehead tentatively with a fingertip. “Hey,” Renji called out softer as he got closer. “Hey, Gin,” trying not to startle Gin but failing.

Dismayed he held out a hand futilely, as he saw Gin turn and hit his elbow hard on the table in front of him. Gin crumpled, his hand slipping down from his face to cradle his elbow, his face lost again behind his white bangs.

“Uh, that wasn’t what I was going for exactly.” Renji would have come in closer but Gin had started to hiss, and stuck out his skinny leg and stopped him from getting any nearer with a well shined oxford shoe to the sternum. Gin held his foot there. Renji stopped moving. Feeling the flat sole of the shoe against his skin, he braved looking Gin in the face.

“No thank you.” Gin muttered, “No hugging.” He was still nursing his elbow with both hands and a sour look on the part of his face Renji could see.

“Gin, do you need to go to a doctor? That looks worse than normal if you know what I mean.” He finished helplessly, pinned by Gin’s shoe.

Gin stared back at him. One eye. “How about no.” He put his leg down. He sat up a bit on the banquette. Scooting closer to the table, hunching lower.

Renji sat down in the chair opposite. “Dude I can see your eye from here. Fuck I could see your face from across the room.” Renji sighed again. “You aren’t fooling anyone by hiding in here.”

Gin murmured something Renji couldn’t catch. He heard, “Never again. Not today,” but missed the rest.

Renji waved his big hand in front of Gin’s face. “Forget it. I can’t only shoot your good side if there isn’t one today. I had to change the shooting schedule. It’s going to cost money but we’ll deal with it. You’re one of my last contestants.”

Gin sat up straighter, made sure his bangs were arranged properly and gritted out, “Look. I don’t give a shit about your stupid cooking show. I need a drink.”

Renji smiled, “Now there we go! Of course you do. That’s the only thing I can help you with right now? But when I come back, I’m going to let you tell me all about whatever is going on between you and that asshole with the glasses now. And because I’m your only friend, I’ll also get you some ice.”

Gin laid down on the banquette on his back gently, carefully draping his arm over his eyes. He resisted the impulse to touch his face with his fingers. Something was soft where he thought a bone should be, and everything hurt. Shit. His eye was never going be the same again.

Something poked him in the leg. Gin grabbed with both hands at what he hoped was a drink.

Renji’s voice said in his ear, “You can’t drink this lying down. I didn’t get you a straw. Sit up.”

Gin struggled to sit back up swinging his legs under the table. He opened his good eye warily. Then he smiled and reached out for the glasses on the table.

“Renji! You shouldn’t have!”

Renji shuddered, “Your face is making mine hurt. Can you tell me what is happening here? If he beats you that badly …for what exactly? Can you go to the cops?”

Renji trailed off and watched Gin knocking back the first vodka shot. Gin sucked his teeth and then squinting at the glass in his hand, stuck his tongue in to lick the bottom.

Renji felt a twinge in his crotch, thinking about Gin’s tongue. He shut that thought down and continued, “Gin, this is really bad. Your face is bad.”

Gin looked up, making eye contact with his good eye. “You think? Not sure what happened this time that was any different than any other time but as you can see,” Gin winced as he tried to smile. “I’m going to drink these first and then I’ll tell you everything you never wanted to hear.”

Gin held the shot glass in close looking at it once more and then set it back on the table a little bit harder than he meant to.

“Whoops. Stereoscopic vision seems to be the first thing to go.”

Renji pushed a ziploc bag of ice across to Gin’s side of the table. “Have your second shot, put this on your face and then tell me what you want to tell me. Then I’ll decide what I want to do.”

Gin groped for the second shot. “Oh Renji, you make me so happy with your plans!” He said in his weird singsongy voice that Renji hated.

Renji sat back in his chair, fiddling with his leather jacket zippers while he watched Gin’s pale thin throat, adam’s apple moving as he drank the second shot. The clink as the second shot glass met the first drew Renji’s eye from that throat back up to Gin’s face.

Gin was leering at him. “So you remember? Hah. I knew it.”

Renji reddened, No-one would really forget Gin that easily. His blowjobs were seriously legendary. That throat would swallow you up and then you had no idea how he was even breathing because you certainly couldn’t stop yourself from grabbing that pale hair and just hanging on, dick harder than ever, fucking that throat…

“Renji!” Renji snapped back into the present, thinking fleetingly that Gin had just read his mind.

“Indeed.” Gin was smiling his creepy smile although the effect was ruined by the split lip and the visible bruises on the side of his face not entirely hidden by his bangs.

He pointed at the shot glasses. “More.” And then made a little waving motion with his finger tips. Shooing Renji back to the bar for more alcohol.

Renji had to adjust his pants on the way to the bar.

Thinking back, he had been slightly relieved when Gin had wandered off and their relationship had changed. Still friendly but not fucking.

He had always found Gin mesmerizingly beautiful and fascinating in a deadly way. Gin was someone to be handled a bit carefully in order to not be maimed or get killed while you were getting what you wanted from him.

So to think of someone who was fucking Gin, being someone who was beating Gin, and beating him so badly on a regular basis, was confusing.

Especially when that person was Aizen.

Renji had brought back a tray of shots. He took one and drank it, setting it on the table gently so as not to disturb Gin who seemed to be on his phone.

Or at least the phone was in his hand. Gin turned the phone towards Renji so he could see who he was talking to. Or rather who he was not talking to, but listening to.

The cracked phone screen showed a glasses icon. The name showing was ‘Asshole’.

Renji looked back again at Gin. He pushed the tray of shots closer to Gin’s elbow on the table. He pointed at the drinks. Gin reached out dropped the ice pack and took a shot in his other hand.

Renji couldn’t hear anything. Gin didn’t seem to have Aizen on speakerphone. The phone wasn’t anywhere near his ear but Gin was nodding as if he was listening to something. Gin took a furtive drink of his vodka shot. Then he finished it. As he set it back on the table something changed, he sat up straighter and put the phone next to his face. The good side.

“No, I’m not.” Gin frowned. “I wouldn’t.” He continued, “I gotta go. Sure. Of course.”

He hung up the call, “Ugh. Fuck. He heard me drinking.”

Renji rolled his eyes. “Why are you taking his calls still? Just block him.”

Gin took his next shot. Then his tongue darted out and he licked the bottom of the shot glass again. “Okay I will tell you what happened but I’m not calling the cops on him. I owe him too much…”

“You don’t owe that asshole anything.” Renji interrupted.

“I owe him too much money.” Gin finished sounding irritated. “So I’m fucking him. So what. I don't live in his apartments. You’ve been to my shithole of a place. I don't even rate sleeping in a bed with him.”

Renji paused from taking another shot glass and considered this.

“Half the time he doesn’t fuck me at all. In fact most of the time he has someone else beat me up.” Gin looked at his fingertips. “But this time it was him.”

“You know he likes how pale I am.”

Renji stopped himself from agreeing out loud that Gin was the palest person alive and that his pale skin had felt like velvet under your tongue.

“He mostly wants to mark me. Cut me with his ring. Slap me. Cut me. Throw his phone at my head. It started as consensual blood play. Now he’s drinking it.”

Renji considered that for a half a second and discarded the idea of bleeding Gin as being unnecessary.

“We don’t undress.”

Now that was a crime Renji thought. That creamy soft skin. Those long limbs.

“No kissing. Probably doesn’t want to lose his tongue when I bite it off.”

That was also confusing for Renji, Gin’s tongue might be sharp in speech but like a soft question when kissing. Like a teasing tantalizing animal thing during sex on dicks and in assholes, on nipples and in ears.

“He sounds like an idiot.” Renji stacked their shot glasses up into a little tower.

“It isn’t a lovely boring fantasy story of checklists and safewords. Basically I suck him off until I am either choked or suffocated. If he fucks me its from behind so I can’t see him and it is either too short or too long. And he punches me and pulls my hair and is a total fuck the entire time. I never come.”

Fucking Gin from behind was a good thing, Renji’s lizard brain was beginning to take over.

He had always tried to get Gin in his bed. They didn’t have enough room on the couch unless they lay on top of each other and Renji was too heavy and Gin was too bony.

Renji was taller and had a bit better leverage to pound him doggystyle, and then he could reach around and work on Gin’s dick. Pinning Gin to the bed or the table or the floor or the wall of the walkin or wherever they were.

Rubbing his dick on the crack of Gin’s white ass. Grabbing Gin’s kitchen whites and pulling them up and off him. Licking his neck watching the blood pump below the pale skin.

Shit he was totally hard now. Supposed to be listening to Gin’s tale of woe and his dick was hard.

“Focus Renji.” Gin was stacking his own tower of shot glasses. He was siting up a bit taller.

“Aizen had these rune things tattooed on my spine.”

Renji had seen those things but Gin hadn’t explained them. Renji had liked running his fingertips along those symbols connecting them together up and down Gin’s knobby spine. Sitting on Gin’s thighs, his rock hard cock slotted up in between Gin’s butt cheeks.

Following Gin’s spine with his fingers before wrapping one hands around Gin’s hip and fingering him open and squirming, with the other, then ploughing into Gin under him until he was drooling into the mattress. Then coming until Gin was lying in a pool of his own come and Renji’s erection was finally down.

“I thought I was going to die. It fucking killed getting tattooed.”

“My forehead hurt.” Renji touched his bandana.

“He put something in the ink. It took forever to heal.”

Renji thought about the raised symbols on Gin’s back.

“He put ground glass in the ink. But that wasn’t what he really wanted.”

Renji took a shot. Now he thought he might not enjoy that spine scenario quite so much. He rubbed his finger tips together as if to get something off them. Then he moved slightly so his erection wasn’t being so annoying.

“Electricity. We had started with the violet wands years ago. But then he decided that wasn’t what he wanted so he tried a taser.”

“No shit. That fucker.” Renji thought about the circular burns on Gin’s lean thighs.

Renji was lost for a moment, thinking about Gin collapsing with a taser attached, jerking on the floor like a fish, pulling against the leads. Fully clothed. Gasping. Eyes open.

Leaning in, Gin flipped the top of his ear forward, “…then he wanted to eat me.”

Renji bent closer and looked at Gin’s ear. The top part was missing. Jaggedly, ripped and healed. Like someone with excellent teeth had taken a large bite out of something like an apple but it was an ear. Gin’s ear.

“Fuck. Enough.” Renji slapped his hands on the table. The shot glass towers fell.

Don’t see him again. See me and I’ll hold you in my arms and fucking kill that asshole. Be mine. I’ll find him and kill him. I’ll shove that violet wand up his ass and turn it up to the highest. I’ll taze his eyeballs. I’ll fucking tattoo his dick and rip it off. I’ll rip off his ears and make you a necklace.

Renji could feel his heart beating in his neck.

Gin sat back on the banquette. He sneered a little, the alcohol was helping him lose the stiffness in his face. “No thanks. You aren’t my type. I am not a princess and I do not need saving.”

The effect was ruined a bit, Renji thought, in that Gin’s bruised face made him look exactly like someone who was in need of saving.

“So. Next steps?” Renji stretched out his legs. His dick was finally relenting so he could sit properly. “I can’t take any more of this. Stop seeing the guy. You don’t need him.”

“I’m going to murder him.” Gin looked more like himself now.

The waitress had come by right at that moment to collect the tray of empty glasses. She looked at Gin and then looked at Renji and then backed off. Renji handed her the tray with an outstretched arm. He looked at her. She nodded.

“She’ll bring us some more. What’s your plan? I thought he had people.”

Gin sighed, and poked at the melting ice now pretty much a ziploc full of water. “Sometimes he has his people beat me up. Sometimes I have to give them head. Sometimes they fuck me.” The water sloshed back and forth in the little bag.

“So we kill all of them?” Renji thought about this for a moment.

“Sure. I was thinking of a fire.”

The waitress returned with a smaller tray of shots. Renji took it and slid it onto the table.

“You like fire.” Renji was thinking about the small round scar on his forearm. Gin had taken a cigarette and butted it out on his forearm. Renji had just watched his skin sizzle unable to pull away.

He had always felt a bit like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake around Gin.

He had been so appreciative of being allowed to be around him for however long he was allowed. He had appreciated being able to see Gin naked. In a bed. Kissing. Licking. Touching. His cock. That tongue.

He would never want to eat him.

“I would never want to eat you. That is fucked.” Renji took a shot.

“I do like fire.” Gin said ignoring Renji’s outburst. “And I have a plan to kill that fucker and all of his minions.”


	2. Bad Yelp Review

Gin was staring at a very ornate ceiling and lying very still on Aizen’s couch.

Rangiku had swanned off some days ago in her usual hurricane force exit process. Departing as Olympic sport on the doorstep; her hangers on, purses, pashminas and tiny dogs all vanishing when she had finally decided her gold medal winning performance was completed.

Ranjgiku was headed back to Berlin. Gin was not.

Gin wondered if this was a good idea or something else. He hadn’t seen their host since Rangiku had left. Aizen had wanted to talk to him. Gin hadn’t been sure he wanted to have that conversation.

Gin had a dangerous idea, now maybe being put into action, that had started long ago when he saw Aizen being mean, rude, or maybe just rough, with Ran. He had made her cry somehow, over work, an unimaginable occurrence normally for her.

But there was some body language there. The language of past hurt and a legacy of pain. Gin thought about the darkness that had fleetingly come over Ranigku’s normally open silly beautiful face when she was standing in front of Aizen at the office, chastened, even her pink suede suit jacket pompoms seeming to droop.

Her head down, staring at her feet. Aizen stood in front of her, Gin could only see his back. Aizen reached out and touched Rangiku’s throat, putting the flat of his hand at the base, fingers under her chin, forcing her head up.

Gin saw tears on her face then. He coughed a little, and said in his most uninterested drawl, “I’ll come back later I guesss.”

Turning he hoped quick enough that neither of them could see his face, eyes squinting, wide smile frozen and tense with suppressed adrenaline. He forced himself to not go to Rangiku, to not shove Aizen aside and kick his ass.

Aizen hadn't seemed to be her type, in Gin's opinio. Aizen seemed to appeal more to that wretched mooning cow Momo who was always loafing around the office. Comparing Aizen to k-pop idols or models in her magazines. Useless girl.

Momo had thankfully not come to the desert palace. Gin wasn’t sure he could have dealt with all the fruitless pining that was going on during the party with her hesitant virgin act also included in that pheromone cloud.

Aizen would never sleep with Rangiku. Gin wasn’t sure why he knew that. If Gin wasn't her best friend he would have fucked her in a heartbeat. Those breasts, that ass. A threesome with Kira in there would have rocked his world.

But she had these hang-ups about keeping her friends separate from her lovers and at the moment she was chasing a petite hipster douchebag at the office. A guy who mostly found her to exasperating and annoying. Gin also didn't understand that distance. Toshiro wasn't gay. Rangiku was luscious. The math added up and yet still amounted to zero.

Initially Gin had wanted to just get cash off Aizen. He wanted an angel investor for the restaurant in New York he was going to set up. Gin would be the culinary artistry and Aizen could be the chequebook.

It was her fault. Rangiku had suggested talking to Aizen in the first place. She knew him from the office. And the parties she threw as her work. He seemed to be perfect. Bored. Rich. Handsome. Popular. Did she mention rich?

So Gin had sidled up and made the first move. They had started the negotiations. The negotiations dragged on for so long, Gin had heard the rumours by then. He ignored them.

It was already too complicated. They were hip deep in talks about percentage rents, payment schedules and location leases. Aizen had many lawyers. Gin tried to keep up.

In her defence, Rangiku had tried to warn him before the actual deal was done. Lamely suggesting that Aizen might not be the right person, the right type of person after all, for Gin to get into a partnership with. Especially for something he was so emotionally invested in. Something that was such a piece of him.

He thought she was just fanning the flames of the gossip around Aizen. At that time he hadn’t realized she was speaking from personal experience.

But then as the restaurant plans solidified, so did the weight around Gin’s neck. Or the cement shoes he felt like he was wearing was probably a better description. Gin ignored her and signed away everything. 

Even adoring adorable Kira had warned him about doing business with Aizen. With a small sad sigh and a fluttering of hands and a tale of woe about working with the guy for years and seeing all his bad behaviours with other business partners.

But all the examples and tears and sighs of his friends and lovers didn't stop him. That restaurant was everything to him. So when he got the deal, and turned over the page so to speak and saw what came along with the money, he felt hollow. He had done it to himself.

In Berlin Gin had reinvented himself as a chef, a cook, a dim sum linesman. Banging out the hargow, chunfan and shumai. Steaming endless steamers of small tasty delicacies. Frying seafood and tofu skins. Wrapping sticky rice into banana leaf packets and pyramids, tying off the green parcels with kitchen string. His skin had never been so smooth from all those steamed dumplings.

Germans weren’t generally interested in Chinese food, but they loved dim sum. The Hong Kong style restaurant near the KaDeWe where he was working at had to redo its entire weekend menu to allow for the lineups. The open diner style kitchen showcased Gin in his spotless kitchen whites.

Rangiku had teased him about never looking like he had even worked a full shift. “Gin, everyone else is covered in grease and sweat. How are you not dirty? Your hair isn’t even damp. You can’t tell you cook in those shoes! Impossible really!” She giggled.

On Sundays when he was working the dim sum brunch, Rangiku and company often squeezed themselves and her fur stoles into the staff booth by the side of the kitchen.

Gin would make her special pot stickers with pork and shrimp. Black bean garlic button ribs. Smoked crab toast. Tiny barbequed pork buns in the shape of hearts. The hangers on got menu only dishes. Even Aizen.

He sometimes wore her soft fur stoles back home to their apartment on the U1, as she slept against the train window, inhaling the combination of her perfume and comforting restaurant smells of garlic, sesame oil and shrimp mayo. Gin smiled more during the cooking stint at Just Dim Sum than he maybe had his whole life.

Gin was almost ready to quit and move to New York right then. His own restaurant. Someone else’s money. But then, with the contract ink barely dry, Aizen had come to call sitting in that same grimy staff booth but without Rangiku.

He was asking about the time in the past Gin had been known as Shiro to transact a specific type of complex business. The exact business that was transacted so long ago was something Gin didn’t want to discuss anymore.

He didn't know how Aizen had figured it out. Shiro's shadowy secretive clients in Japan and Hong Kong weren't exactly known for being talkative about their expensive business with him.

Shiro was in fact supposed to be dead and not here in the present working as an anonymous dim sum cook in Berlin. Perhaps Aizen had also clients among those same individuals? However, it didn't pay to theorize. Gin didn't want to talk about it.

That business that laid there like a lumpen dead thing between them as Aizen pressed and Gin avoided. This was delaying getting him to New York. He wanted to leave Berlin and get on with it.

He had fucked Aizen already by that time during the negotiations as it had seemed inevitable. Aizen wasn’t really a monogamous type, Gin certainly didn’t mind, as long as he got some action every once in while he was fine. Aizen had thought he was fucking Rangiku, Gin cleared that point up quickly.

So, when the desert palace party trip to Aizen’s Las Noches in Huecho Mundo came across his calendar, he took the invitation with a small kernel of an idea in mind that he hoped to see blossom into something magnificent. That was much earlier though. When Gin still had ideas.

Now Gin finally got up off his couch in the palace’s giant cold sitting room, a true and mostly unused arab majles, he could hear an oud playing softly somewhere in the house. He would go look for his host today and get the plan in motion.

He turned around and right into a servant. Or rather, he walked into the unmoveable bulk of a palace servant.

Aizen had called his Las Noches servants ‘fracciones’, pronounciation complete with overwrought soft Barcelonian lisp. Gin had not understood why Aizen considered them to be only part of a whole.

The house servants all wore the black abaya and black face obscuring veil but they were not all women. The one Gin had bounced off of just now was definitely a man. He grasped Gin firmly by the arms, just above the elbows, holding him tight and unexpectedly flipped him over his shoulder.

Caught completely off guard, Gin was held too tightly to wriggle out the punishing hold the guy had him in although that didn't stop him from trying. He pushed and struggled. Nothing.

Gin also was shouting. No-one responded. He was carried out of the salon and up a small staircase, down a hallway, Gin was getting dizzy. He saw no-one. They were headed down a long curved staircase now. Then another bright white hallway. Everything looked the same upside down.

He had tried to bite the part of the guy he could reach. He was rewarded with a sharp stinging hair pull and then he was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor outside of a white room with white furniture around the edges and a large white curtained window looking out onto a white sandy landscape.

Gin was herded into the room by the silent fraccione kicking and shoving him through the doorway with his foot. The white panelled door shut with a firm click behind him.

Gin got up from the floor. He bent his knees and dusted himself off, looking around the room.

His phone rang. It was Aizen.

“—“ Gin didn't bother to say hello after stabbing the call button on his phone to answer. He put the call on speaker and then laid down again on the cool tiles next to the phone. Gin lay on his front, head on his crossed hands, contemplating the view of nothing out the white window.

The smooth voice spoke from the phone on the floor. “Gin my friend. You haven’t had that conversation with me yet. I thought maybe if we had more time together to spend, without the extra distraction of our good friends, we could discuss some work you could do for me. Not cooking work. More important work.”

“Aizen-ssama, there is no more important work for me than cooking.” Gin said blankly.

Aizen said gently, “I think somewhat differently in this situation Gin. Your clever talents need to be used again. I have some work-“

“No thankss.” Gin hung up and turned over on his back on the white rug. Propping one leg on the other knee at the ankle, he contemplated the ceiling in this room. Smaller vaulting and only the brightness from pierced golden sconces sending dappled shadows up the white walls. There was no massive chandelier in this sitting room.

The door to the room opened.

“Why do you call me from the hallway?” Gin asked, turning his head to Aizen’s feet standing beside him.

“Why are you playing so hard to get, my love?” Aizen had walked over to an odd low canvas chair. When he sat, his knees were up so high, like an adult in a child’s school chair. Aizen patted the carpet next to his chair. “Gin?”

Gin got up. “You don’t need to force me. The answer will always be no.”

“Force? No? I don’t think so. I can be very persuasive and after all this you know you want to help me.”

Gin couldn’t see Aizen’s eyes behind his glasses. Aizen held out a hand to Gin. Gin walked over and let Aizen pull him into his lap.

Aizen took off his glasses and set them on a little octagonal sandalwood table near the couches. Aizen held one of Gin’s hands in his, the other began to burrow slowly underneath Gin’s white shirt. Fingers moving purposefully towards Gin’s pale stomach. Gin pulled his legs in, pressing against Aizen’s, his barefeet on Aizen’s shoes.

Aizen turned Gin’s hand and kissed his palm, sucking on the skin, lightly nibbling on him and then moving his other hand up under Gin’s shirt towards his nipple.

“Sex yes. Killing 46 people for you no.” Gin turned his head and found Aizen’s mouth, opening up for Aizen’s tongue probing his.

Aizen kissed him firmly, now both hands moving over Gin’s skin under his clothes. Aizen pinched Gin’s nipple, tweaking it sharply. Biting at his mouth, moving a hand back to Gin’s hair and pulling on it. The other hand pinching at the thin skin on Gin’s bony sides.

He pushed Gin down between his legs. Gin exhaled slowly, and so it begins.

Now that Aizen’s hands were unzipping his pants, Gin moved to Aizen’s cock, heavy and limp, pulling it out and over the zipper, pushing his pants away. Holding that cock with cool fingers. Aizen slid his pants down to mid thigh to free his dick.

Gin’s thin thumb pushing and stroking the wide flat head of Aizen’s cock. Gin moved his hand to pull gently on Aizen’s balls. He could feel the arousal starting.

“You can do it. I have faith in your abilities.”

Gin tried not to snort, his mouth full of Aizen’s limp dick, abilities as an assassin or in the blow job. Well one of those tasks was more enjoyable than the other, so he was going to enjoy what he could.

Then Aizen’s heavy hand was on Gin’s head pushing him down firmly. Gin slid down on his cock, filling his mouth and throat as it slowly hardened.

Gin pulled back, breathing heavily, slurping slightly as he let Aizens dick fall on his tongue, keeping his mouth open as wide as he could. Aizen took advantage of the room and shoved Gin back down on his cock, a little farther than before, dick tip hitting the back of Gin’s throat.

Gin swallowed and Aizen groaned. Gin struggles to breathe through his nose, face shoved hard against Aizen’s crotch, his arms held behind his back by his shirt tied around his wrists.

Aizen’s favourite foreplay was currently Gin immobilized and sucking him off, face planted hard in Aizen’s pubic hair, breathing compromised, maybe going to suffocate. That scenario was currently making Gin squirm with lust.

Gin let Aizen move his dick back and forth on his tongue as he caught his breath. Face fucking always turned him on either way: as the fucker or one getting slammed. So fucking hot.

Aizen was normally so prissy. Las Noches was so white and immaculate. Gin loved that their sex was made up of copious come and awkward positions. Gin liked it the best when it was messy. Gin found Aizen especially hot when the sex was awkward, painful and mechanical.

Aizen had pushed Gin back on his heels at this point, half standing over Gin, he was pistoning in and out of Gin’s throat. Gin’s lungs were burning, and he was shoved against Aizen’s clothed thighs to keep from sprawling across the room on the floor from the force of the thrusts.

Gin’s mouth was over full, it was difficult to keep his teeth from grazing Aizen’s cock. Aizen pushed him back harder, backing Gin up against the edge of a couch, pulling sharply on his hair to raise up his head, Gin grunting and sucking harder at the unexpected pain.

Aizen then was fucking hard into Gin’s mouth in order to come with an unintelligible low grunt and the final hard shove of his thighs right up against Gin’s face.

Gin sat stock still, legs aching from the squatting, while Aizen came in his mouth. The bitter come streaming into his mouth.

Panting from the exertion, Aizen backed off Gin’s mouth only a bit, to let Gin grab a breath through his nose. Then holding Gin’s chin firmly, slapped him hard in the face.

At the slap, with a mouth so full of come, Gin choked and come dribbled down his chin out from around Aizen’s dick. He felt come in his nose.

Aizen now had a hand tight on his face, strong fingers now wiping come into his nose and over his face, now pinching his nose closed. Aizen stroked his cheek and slid fingertips over his shut eyelids. He loosened the shirt freeing Gin’s arms.

Gin was so incredibly hard himself, his dick pressing deliciously against his tight clothes. He couldn't sit still any longer pushing at Aizen’s hands. He kept Aizen’s rapidly softening dick in his mouth coughing and gagging around it as he regained his breath.

Kneeling and leaning back, he finally got to put both hands on his own dick, scrabbling to undo pants and get at his hardon, when Aizen stuck his shoe between Gin’s hands and his dick.

Aizen pressed down slowly with his foot, pulling his cock away from Gin’s mouth. Gin growled. Pinned to the floor, his eyes shut, now empty mouth open.

Aizen rocked his entire body forward, crushing Gin’s erection with his weight all on his one foot. Gin licked his lips slowly and opened his eyes.

When he saw Aizen looking back at him, standing over him, he came extremely hard in his pants with a sob. At least Gin thought he might have been making a very stupid sobbing sound by that point.

Struggling to catch his breath, Gin slid his fingers through Aizen’s come in his eyebrows then pulled at the wet crotch of his pants away from himself. Fuck. That was incredible. He spat, ran his tongue around his stretched mouth and swallowed gingerly. He wiped his lips.

Aizen kicked him away with his foot and went to sit on the couch. He used Gin’s abandoned shirt to wipe his dick and then offered it absently to Gin.

“Tea please.” Aizen said to the servant who had appeared next to the couch bending forward to take Aizen’s order. Gin told the servant to fuck off with a hoarse voice and flopped face down on the rug.

Aizen tossed the shirt at Gin. “Clean your face at least. You’ll have to go change, you can’t wear those clothes to lunch.” Aizen was putting his dick back in his pants and zipping up. Tucking in his shirt. “You definitely need to wash your face.”

“You better wash your hands.” Gin laughed. “And maybe your shoe.” He giggled and put his sticky face back down on carpet, breathing hard. Fuck that was fun.

He wasn’t going to be able to avoid the conversation about Aizen’s stupid assassination job, but apparently he was going to enjoy the sex immensely until that conversation happened.


End file.
